Текст книги "On wings of blood"

Автор книги: Briar Boleyn

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

CHAPTER 23 – MEDRA

Vaughn showed up at class the next day. Not Basic Combat for Blightborn, where he hadn’t been all week. No, this was the History of Sangratha which we all had in the mornings.

He entered the lecture hall quietly, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

But Naveen stood up immediately. “Vaughn,” he shouted, waving his arms. “Over here. Come sit with us.”

The tall, skinny boy was hunched over. He kept his head down as he walked slowly over to us.

As he approached, I could see why. My heart sank.

Vaughn’s appearance was shocking. His left eye was bruised, fading into shades of purple and yellow. His right arm was in a sling. Obviously it had been broken.

“Vaughn,” Florence whispered, her face horrified as he slid into our row next to her. “What happened to you?”

Vaughn stared down at the desk, his normally cheerful face drained. He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve with his left hand. “It’s nothing. I had an accident.”

“An accident?” Naveen's eyes were wide as he took in Vaughn's battered appearance. “An accident?” he repeated, his voice a mix of worry and disbelief. “That doesn't explain the black eye or the broken arm. What kind of an accident exactly?”

My heart was hammering. I thought back to the last night I’d seen Vaughn, on the beach near the bonfire party. Theo had invited him, he’d said. I’d never told Florence about that. There had seemed to be no need to.

Vaughn shifted uncomfortably, still not meeting our eyes. “I fell down. It’s worse than it looks,” he said quietly. “The healers... They were able to fix most of it.” I knew better than most just how much the healers could fix and how rapidly. If this was how Vaughn still looked even after seeing a healer then it must have been ten times worse before.

“But there’s some permanent damage.” His face constricted. I saw how hard he was working to keep it together. “They’re not sure...” He cleared his throat. “They’re not sure if I’ll still be able to be a scout. I might be expelled from Bloodwing if they won’t let me switch to a strategist training path instead.”

A wave of anger rushed through me. I’d seen this before. How highbloods treated blightborns who dared to step out of line. This was just like what had happened to me, what had happened to Florence.

Vaughn hadn’t fallen. He’d been attacked. It was written all over his face. It was in the way he was refusing to meet our eyes.

I tried to keep my voice low and steady, but my anger was barely restrained. “This wasn’t an accident, was it, Vaughn? Who did this to you?”

Vaughn winced, his face tightening as if in shame. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

But his silence was answer enough.

“Who was it?” I pressed. I caught Florence giving me a dissuading look but I didn’t care. “Was it highbloods? Which one?”

“Highbloods?” Florence gasped. She looked back and forth between us, her shock seeming to deepen. “Vaughn, if they–if they did this, you have to tell someone. You should go to the headmaster. We’re supposed to be safe here.”

I ignored her. Anything I’d said at this point would have offended her. No one was going to do anything about this. No one cared. No one but us.

My stomach twisted. There was only one person I could think of who would have had the influence and the cruelty to attack the boy who liked Theo Drakharrow.

“Was it Blake?” I asked, my voice cold. “Did Blake Drakharrow do this to you? Because of Theo?”

Vaughn’s face crumpled, and though he didn’t say the words, the guilt in his expression was all the confirmation I needed.

Before I could say anything else, the door at the front of the room swung open and Professor Hassan strode in, her cane tapping sharply against the stones.

Her severe expression immediately ended all conversations.

I clenched my fists beneath the desk, my mind still racing.

Blake still had the fluffin.

That was the only thing that made me pause and consider for one moment the sanity of my next actions.

But ultimately, even the little pup wasn’t enough to stop me. Florence and I could sneak into the Drakharrow Tower and get it afterwards, I rationalized. We’d figure something out.

I stormed into Advanced Weaponry and paused in the doorway, scanning the room.

There. In the corner.

Fucking shirtless again. Of course he was. Cocky, egotistical asshole.

His back was to me. The sight of all that exposed skin and muscle made my chest tighten, but not with fear.

His narrow shoulders flexed as he worked the training bag, muscles rippling beneath the black tattoos that covered his pale skin like dark, forbidden scriptures.

Sure, he was gorgeous. He was also oblivious to Vaughn’s suffering and guilty as sin for causing it.

Fury was boiling in my veins. But beneath the rage was something else. Something far more infuriating and far more shameful.

There was a pull when I looked at Blake Drakharrow. He was beautiful in the way that fire was beautiful. Raw and scorching. I hated it. Hated that my breath caught in my throat when I saw him like this. Hated that my heart raced. Not just with anger, but with something I’d sworn I wouldn’t let myself name.

I thought of Vaughn. His black eye, his broken arm. I thought of the hopeful, sweet expression in his eyes when I’d run into him that night on the beach and he’d been on his way to see Theo.

Blake had done this to him because he was a blightborn. Because he thought Vaughn wasn’t good enough for Theo.

Just like he thought I wasn’t good enough for him.

Now was the time to end this.

I glanced around. I was early. The room was still empty, except for a few highblood students here and there, talking to one another or practicing warm-up drills. Professor Sankara hadn’t arrived yet. This was my chance.

I squared my shoulders and started across the room, my pulse a drumbeat in my ears.

As I neared him, I called his name.

“Blake.”

He froze mid-punch, his back still to me, then slowly lowered his fist. Then he turned, casual but alert, the hint of a cool smile already tugging at his lips.

His gray eyes narrowed, taking me in with that lazy arrogance I’d come to loathe.

“What do you want, Pen–” he started to drawl.

I didn’t give him time to finish. Before the words were fully formed, my fist was flying.

My knuckles connected with the sharp line of his jaw. The impact reverberated up my arm. It hurt. It also felt really good.

Blake staggered back, a flash of shock crossing his handsome face as he brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his jaw where I’d struck him.

“What the fuck was that for?” Blake roared.

His mocking arrogance and customary smugness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

But before I could answer, a tall figure rushed towards me. I turned to see Coregon. The tall, dark-skinned young man eyed me warily. “You can’t take on Blake, Medra,” he warned, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Just walk away. He’s stronger than you are. You don’t want this.”

But Coregon’s words simply goaded me onwards. My fury was burning too hot to put out.

I stepped around Coregon and he let me, taking a few steps back.

“You know what this is about,” I spat at Blake. My fists rose as I moved towards him, body moving into a fighting stance. “Let’s go. You and me. Right now. No one’s going to stop us. You know you want this as much as I do.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Fight you?” he echoed, mockery thick in his voice. “I’m not going to fight you, little drag–”

My fist shot out before he could finish the sentence, but this time he was ready for me.

He was fast. Inhumanly fast. He easily sidestepped my blow.

Before I could recover my balance, his hand shot out, catching me by the wrist and twisting my arm. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to keep me off balance.

I could feel his strength. His grip was like iron and no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t shake him off.

But I was wild now. A frenzy of anger was giving me strength beyond reason. My dragon rider instincts finally triggering again? Maybe. Maybe there was something else to it, too, but I didn’t have the time to stop and question what it was.

I swung again, using my free hand, and while Blake dodged, it was clear he wasn’t used to fighting anyone in quite this state of reckless abandon.

My body collided against his and suddenly we were closer than we’d ever been before. His chest pressed up against mine. Even through the thin fabric of my training tunic, the contact was electric.

I hated how my heart stuttered at the sensation. Like I’d been doused in cold water.

Blake grunted. He was struggling to control me.

I didn’t want him to control me. I wanted him to fight back.

I twisted in his grip, trying to throw him off, but he was too strong.

He managed to push me down, pinning me to the ground, his body hovering mine. The breath was sucked out of me as my back hit the dirt.

It was like with Visha all over again... but different.

Our faces were inches apart. My breath was coming in ragged gasps. Blake’s lips were parted as he searched my face with a strange intensity.

I felt the weight of him pressing down on me, felt his heat against my skin. My pulse was thrumming in my ears. Not just from the fight, but from the proximity. My body was trying to betray my mind.

I twisted beneath him, lifting my hips to try to throw him off, and I saw him flinch. “You fucking coward. You're a monster, Blake Drakharrow. You thought you could hurt him and just get away with it? Hell no. Not while I’m around. ”

He glared down at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Vaughn Sabino,” I snarled. “I’m talking about what you did to my friend. You don’t know a fucking thing about friendship, do you? About loyalty? If you want to hurt someone I care about, you’ll have to go through me first. You’re going to pay for what you did to him.”

Blake’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t pinpoint. Anger, guilt, maybe even regret. He wiped at his lips where a small line of blood trickled, his eyes never leaving mine.

I wasn’t bleeding, I realized. Not yet. He’d made sure of that.

But I wanted to. I wanted to hurt. I wanted him to make me bleed. Just like he’d done to Vaughn. I wanted Blake to reveal himself once and for all. To show me the monster I knew lay underneath.

The room felt too small, the air between us charged with tension. His face hovered over mine, his breath hot against my skin.

Gods, I could feel every inch of him.

Blake’s gaze was dark, confused even. For a second, neither of us moved. His eyes flicked down to my lips, then back up, as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do next, kiss me or kill me.

The moment stretched. The world around us had faded into silence long ago.

I felt dizzy, my body tingling with rage and a maddening sense of need.

I wrenched my body to the side, breaking free of his hold and jumping to my feet. I swung my fist again just as he rose up beside me.

He dodged, catching my wrist mid-swing.

“You really want me to hurt you?” His voice was sharper now, frustration seeping through the cracks of his control.

“Yes,” I shouted. “Fight me, you fucking coward. Instead of always picking on someone weaker than you are.”

I yanked my hand free and lunged again, this time landing a punch to his ribs. But before I could hit him again, he grabbed both my arms and twisted them behind my back, holding me tight against him.

I struggled, thrashing in his hold.

“But you’re weaker than me, Pendragon,” he breathed in my ear. “You know you are. Look at you. You’re pathetic.”

“Shut the hell up and fight me. Why won’t you fight me?” I demanded, my voice trembling with rage. My body was burning, every muscle straining from the effort of trying to reach him. He was wearing me out and he knew it.

“Maybe you’re not worth it,” he murmured. “Did you ever think of that?”

I roared, thrashing in his arms. He held me tight, his jaw clenched, but I could feel the frustration in him mounting. If he was wearing me out, I was wearing him out, too.

I didn’t want to admit the truth. Blake was different from Visha. I'd been training for months. If this was Visha, I’d have been more than a match for her this time. Blake was stronger than me. By a lot. But I still wasn’t giving up.

I might lose today. But I’d work to become just as strong. No matter what I had to do. I wouldn’t stop fighting him. I’d never stop.

I managed to break his grip on one of my arms and half-turned, trying to swing behind me, but he caught my wrist.

“You and all your friends,” I panted. “You’re all bullies. And you have the nerve to call me pathetic. Look in the fucking mirror.”

“Stop!”

The word rang out across the training yard.

Instantly, Blake let go of me and stepped away.

I blinked, suddenly disoriented.

Professor Sankara stood at the entrance to the yard, his eyes blazing with anger as he strode towards us.

It was only then that I realized we were surrounded by a crowd.

Highblood students, blightborn students–there must have been a hundred or more gathered around. They’d come in from the corridors, and now stood there, whispering, their eyes wide with shock and fascination as they watched Blake and I.

I spotted a familiar face at the edge of the crowd. Vaughn.

I’d expected him to look relieved. But instead, he looked horrified. Was he afraid of retaliation? I’d have to reassure him later.

Still, a wave of guilt went through me. Had I done the right thing? Had this really been for Vaughn at all?

“Everyone to the arena,” Professor Sankara barked. “The House Leader ceremony is about to begin and you are all expected to be in attendance.”

The crowd started to disperse, the students raising their voices once more into an even louder murmur as they filed out of the yard.

Professor Sankara walked towards us.

“You are both in violation of Sangrathan law,” he declared, his voice hard as stone. I stared at him. What was he talking about? “But you’re needed in the arena, Drakharrow. Whatever this was will have to be dealt with later.”

Blake went to move past me, then paused and glanced my way. Our eyes met.

He held my gaze for a moment, his eyes cold. Then he turned and walked away.

I was left in the yard alone, my fists still clenched by my side, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

A soft snuffling sound pulled me out of my fog. A faint whimper followed, then a tiny yap.

My eyes darted around until they landed on a large bag over in the corner where Blake had been practicing before I'd interrupted him. It was half-concealed by a stack of practice weapons, so I hadn’t even noticed it before.

I walked over, my pulse finally beginning to slow to a normal pace after the fight. The bag was made of worn black canvas, the kind of duffel that just blended into the shadows. It was big enough to carry bulky training gear, the kind most highblood students would use to store their personal equipment.

But this one had mesh sides, open to let gear or sweaty training clothes ventilate.

I knelt down and unbuckled the top of the bag and there, nestled between some folded clothes and towels, was the fluffin. His wide, owl-like eyes blinked up at me. Then he yapped again, louder this time, and jumping up a little, licked my hand.

My stomach twisted in confusion. Blake had brought the fluffin to Advanced Weaponry. Why?

I looked the little creature over. He seemed to be fully healed.

Blake had brought the fluffin to give it back to me. He’d done what I’d asked and he’d been planning to return it. Then I’d attacked him and he’d been called away to the arena and forgotten all about it.

“Medra!”

I turned at the sound of my name.

Vaughn stood by the entrance.

Picking up the black bag and gently pushing the fluffin’s head back down, I walked towards him.

“Vaughn. What are you doing here?”

“Why did you attack Blake Drakharrow?” He was chewing his lip nervously.

“You already know why,” I said slowly. “He attacked you.”

He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t say that.”

My heart sped up. “You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face. Someone from Theo’s house did this to you. Who else but Blake?”

Vaughn looked miserably. “It wasn’t him.”

His words hit me like a slap in the face.

“What? What do you mean it wasn’t him?”

“We have to go, Medra. Attendance at the House Leadership ceremony is compulsory. Very compulsory.” He grabbed my arm and I realized how frightened he was. “Let’s go.”

I followed him into the hall as he half-dragged, half-pulled me.

The corridor was empty. Bloodwing had never seemed so quiet.

I pulled away. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who did that to you.”

Vaughn covered his hands with his face. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

He lowered his hands and looked at me. “It was Coregon Phiri.”

“What?” My head started to spin. “Are you telling me the truth, Vaughn?”

“It wasn’t Blake,” he said firmly. “It was Coregon. In fact...” He hesitated.

“What?”

“We have to go, Medra. At least walk and talk.”

He started down the hallway again, half-running, and I chased after him.

“It could have been even worse,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder as he moved quickly down the next corridor. We were entering an area of the school I’d never been in before. “Someone found me on the beach. I was bleeding. I guess I’d passed out. They carried me back to the school. Left me outside the First Year infirmary. The healer found me right away. She said someone had been banging on the door.”

“Theo?” I guessed.

But Vaughn shook his head. “I don’t know.”

My head was swirling. Just because Blake hadn’t personally attacked Vaughn didn’t mean he hadn’t been responsible somehow. He could have commanded Coregon to do it.

But Vaughn’s words had cast doubt on everything I thought I knew.

The halls were unsettlingly silent now that everyone had made their way to the arena. Our footsteps echoed as we hurried along, Vaughn leading me deeper into the school than I had ever ventured before. The stones along the walls began to darken.

As we rounded a corner, my breath caught in my throat. A wide trio of open arches led into the arena. The space was vast and open to the sky. Carved from huge stone blocks of deepest red, the arena had tiered seats that encircled the floor below.

Most of the seats were already full.

As we stepped through the arches, someone stepped towards me and grabbed my arm.

“Where the hell have you been?” Professor Rodriguez snapped angrily. He shook his head. “On second thought, never mind that now. You’re late. Vaughn, go find a seat. Miss Pendragon, come with me. Everyone has been waiting for you.”

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CHAPTER 24 – BLAKE

I watched Rodriguez usher Pendragon down the tiers of stone to her seat as I stood down below in the middle of the arena floor.

The floor featured moving stone platforms that could rise into the air during combat, adding another layer of complexity to a fight as they rotated and shifted unpredictably. But today the platforms were still and silent. I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping my balance.

The most prestigious students from my house sat together in the first row, and there at the end were the two spots saved for my consorts: Regan Pansera and Medra Pendragon.

It was supposed to be a place of honor. Pendragon sure didn’t look honored.

Regan had taken her seat a long time ago. She sat there now, the epitome of poise and control, her back perfectly straight, her silver-blonde hair arranged meticulously. She stiffened slightly as Pendragon sat down beside her and leaned away, as if touching the blightborn girl might sully her.

Regan was the perfect highblood girl. Popular and beautiful. Bred for power.

She stared ahead, indifferent, bored, waiting for this ritual to end. I knew she had no doubt I’d become House Leader today. But the confidence she had in me was meaningless.

Then there was Pendragon. Looking as if she’d love nothing better than to kill us all with her eyes. She was slumped slightly in her seat, obviously wishing she were anywhere but here. Her mass of fiery curls had grown only wilder thanks to our spat. Wisps and tendrils had escaped the leather tie she used to hold her hair back.

The freckles along her cheeks stood out even more when she was angry. And she was angry now. Angry and uncomfortable, glaring across the arena at me with a stubborn, reckless glint in her eyes.

My chest tightened. She’d attacked me with murder in her heart. And yet, idiot that I was, it was her I couldn’t take my eyes off.

She was everything Regan wasn’t. Unrefined, unpredictable. Burning with a fire I couldn’t help but admire. Even though she clearly despised me.

Regan wanted me for what I represented, not who I was.

Power. Prestige. Status. Control. Everything that came with being a Drakharrow. Those were the things Regan lived for.

Oh, there was no denying she was beautiful. In the same way that ice was beautiful.

Regan would be an obedient consort. A perfect mother. Always loyal. She had been bred for this role and she played it well. From childhood, we’d been told we would someday be partners.

Yet I hated her. Hated her for everything she’d let herself become. Even though she’d done nothing less than exactly what she was told.

Whereas Pendragon didn’t want me at all. She was willful, obstinate, and probably going to get herself killed one of these days.

Yet when I lay in my bed at night, after having rejected one of Regan’s pathetic advances for the hundredth time, Pendragon’s face was the one I couldn’t get out of my mind.

It was a sick irony. The more she fought against me, the more this fucked up attraction to her grew.

Fighting her in the training yard just now had been almost as good as sex. It was probably the closest we’d ever get, if she had her way.

I knew I’d be replaying the way her body had moved as we fought in my head that night, over and over again. When I’d pinned her down, my body pressing against hers, her breath hot on my skin–I’d known in that moment it would be the closest I’d ever get to having her. The way she’d writhed beneath me, the soft curves of her body straining against my weight, her lips slightly parted as she gasped for breath... Fuck. It had almost undone me.

I’d stayed there like that as long as I’d dared, hovering over her, unable to take my eyes off the soft, tempting curve of her lips. The impulse had been so strong to just lean down and kiss her, right there in front of everyone.

She would have slapped me. Probably would have hated me even more.

But I couldn’t help wondering if it would have been worth the humiliation.

Did she know how careful I’d been not to make her bleed? Not to break her perfect, soft, white skin no matter how much she goaded me?

I’d already been so fucking aroused that I knew if I’d scented even a drop of blood on her while we’d fought, I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself.

I groaned a little, remembering the sweetness of her body, the swell of her breasts. It had taken all I had not to reach a hand down and cup one of them through her tunic.

I knew that night I’d be jerking off as I imagined unfastening her trousers and sliding into the warm, wet place between her thighs.

Except, in my fantasies, Pendragon was always a willing participant. She’d moan her need for me, arching her hips impatiently. She’d tug my pants off, and cradle my cock, running her fingers down the hard length of it.

In my dreams, she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

Fat chance of that ever happening in real life.

Belatedly, I realized Headmaster Kim had stood up and was speaking.

I knew I’d be expected to pay him a visit later. Probably with Pendragon. Did she even realize the serious crime she’d committed by fighting me like that?

Consorts had been banished or even beheaded for less.

One did not attack one’s archon. Ever.

It was an unspoken rule, perhaps even an unwritten one. If it was unwritten, if it wasn’t actually on the books, then perhaps we could use that to Pendragon’s advantage. I could talk to Rodriguez after this was all over, see if he could point that out to Kim.

I felt an uncomfortable sensation, like an itch on my conscience.

What the fuck was wrong with me that I was thinking of ways to keep Pendragon from being kicked out of Bloodwing or worse? Instead of just letting it happen.

Because, a secret nagging voice in my head said, I knew exactly what would happen to her if she was expelled.

She wouldn’t be free. My uncle would never let her go.

No, Pendragon was chained for life. If not to me, then...

Kim’s chill voice broke through my thoughts. “For millennia, the leadership of our Houses has been determined by strength, cunning, and the will to dominate. Only the powerful may rule. Only the worthy may survive. ‘Sanguis et Flamma Floreant’ is our motto. Only blood and flame may flourish in these halls. From blood comes unity. From blood comes strength. From blood, legacy. From blood, power.”

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest, trying not to look too bored. It was basically the same tedious speech he’d given at every House Leadership ceremony.

Except this year would be even more tedious for the crowd watching. Today I’d be winning the House Leader position by default.

Headmaster Kim sure didn’t seem pleased about that. “In an almost unprecedented historical moment at Bloodwing, we stand here today without a second challenger. Without a single soul brave enough to test their strength against House Drakharrow’s favored son.”

My claim to the house leadership was practically a birthright. No one had the guts to face me. I hadn’t really expected them to.

Still, I had to admit it was too easy this way.

Catherine Mortis had to put down three other contenders to win her place. Even though we’d all known she’d come out the victor. One had even been her own cousin. Catherine was brutal and would do anything to win. She’d been merciless with her kills. Even more pitiless towards her cousin.

Lysander Orphos had two challengers to subdue before he took up the mantle of House Leader for Orphos. I hadn’t really thought he’d had it in him, to be honest. He and his sister both looked so, well, fragile, sensitive. But he’d proved me and all his other detractors wrong that day. He’d killed with grace.

As for Kage Tanaka, only one highblood in House Avari had been stupid enough to challenge him. That fool was eliminated quickly and in the most stylistic way I’d ever seen. Kage was an incredible fighter and a strong leader. He was more cunning than either Catherine, with her brute force, or Lysander, with his daydreamy attitude. Tanaka would be a powerful ally some day. But in the meantime, we had an almost friendly rivalry. Things were less boring at Bloodwing with Tanaka around. He knew how to keep me on my toes. Like with his hilarious play at the bonfire that night. He’d evidently lost patience with Kiernan. Killing the lackey had practically been doing Tanaka a favor.

“Is this what we have become?” Headmaster Kim’s voice had turned sharper, almost mocking. “Are we so weak, so cowardly, that none of you dare to rise to this challenge? What has happened to our legacy? To the blood that demands we fight for our place?”

My lips curled in a half-smirk, but my stomach twisted slightly at Kim’s words. They were a dig. My very lack of challengers was casting a shadow over my ascension today. It made the victory feel hollow.

Never mind the fact that taking anyone on at this point would have been... bothersome. What Pendragon lacked in strength and speed, she made up for in raw chaotic force. Our fight had taken more out of me than I wanted to admit, even though I had to stand here now and pretend like I hadn’t been impacted in the slightest. She’d pushed me hard. I wasn’t fully spent but I wasn’t where I’d have wanted to be to take on a challenger. Fortunately I wouldn’t have to.

The problem was, I hadn’t been feeding enough. I had to do so. Soon. I pushed the thought away and tried to concentrate on what Kim was saying.

“Blake Drakharrow stands here today, unchallenged,” the headmaster continued. The man was getting on my nerves. Just wrap things up already. “Not because he is unworthy of a fight, but because none among his house has the courage to face him.”

I glared at the back of the headmaster’s head. Kim was taking it a little too far. I wouldn’t stand to have my house shamed and it felt like that was exactly what he was trying to do. Make us out to be a bunch of cowards. When the reality was no one dared to challenge me because they knew it was pointless. They’d die. I’d put them down like the dogs they were.

It was better to defer to me than to waste their life needlessly. Just like with a wolf pack, my house of highbloods knew I was their alpha. I’d made that clear from the start. I’d done my duty when I’d served my brother Marcus as his second. I’d been loyal. Even though it’d killed me sometimes.

Then, when Marcus graduated, I’d made it clear that they all were to submit to me. And they had. I had to admit, Regan had been useful then. But of course, she’d wanted me in charge because that meant she gained status, too.

I’d had to kick a few asses to get everyone in line, but then it had been relatively peaceful. There was absolute loyalty among our house now. I’d have accepted nothing less.

Of course, the one outlier was Pendragon. But she was a First Year. When she came to Drakharrow Tower next year, she’d have to shape up. She’d risk embarrassing me even worse than she already had otherwise.

I smothered a yawn, as my mind continued to drift, tuning out the speech. I’d already won, hadn’t I? I was moments away from receiving the gold pin. This was all just a formality. A reward for a position I’d never had any doubt I’d take.

Let’s get this over with. My gaze wandered back to Pendragon.

Then I heard it. A growl. So soft I didn’t think anyone else had even noticed.

My body tensed immediately. I recognized the sound.

My eyes darted to Pendragon’s legs where my black canvas bag rested on the ground by her feet.

Neville–a stupid name but it was what I’d taken to calling the fluffin–had poked his head out. He was looking at me and growling, his tiny pointed teeth bared.